The Walk
by Terraform
Summary: Long-time friends, Donnie and April, go for a walk.
1. Part 1

A/N: This one is long overdue, I've been working on it intermittently for the past few months. I stopped for a while. Dropped off the face of the Earth. Hated that it taunted me. Finally, I got out a notebook and actually plotted this thing out properly ( _Not that you can tell_ \- you). I do have other stories that I'm working on. But for now, I hope you enjoy this one.

* * *

THE WALK

"Tell me you're kidding?!" April paused typing long to stretch her fingers flat over the keyboard. "You _really_ haven't been out there _just_ for a walk. Not running. Not training. Not a junkyard pickup. Just a nice stroll to enjoy the sites?"

"Does sleepwalking count?"

"Conscious only, I'm afraid."

"Then… uh, nope." Donatello gave a smile that bordered on apologetic, recapped his pen and placed it neatly beside the stack of notes in front of him, "I mean, as you said, we frequently go topside for supply runs and training… and visiting you, of course."

Blatant skepticism dimpled her cheeks: "I see."

"A-And back when I was young I watched whole documentaries playing on TVs in storefront windows. We had a small wireless and could pick up the audio. That was kind of neat. So we kind of had leisurely surface time. Of sorts."

"Hmmm."

Donatello gulped as she shut the lid of her laptop with a _click_ , ready and waiting for the grand show that came with the hole he was about to dig for himself.

"And...uh… if you count witnessing from afar, I can tick off most of the landmarks: Governor's Island, Empire State Building, you name it, I've probably seen it– and...uh…let me think…" He was rambling now. He knew it. "…and as I understand, it's not uncommon to bypass the tourist attractions in your hometown... maybe it's just a human condition, thinking you have an endless amount of time, or not taking interest in the familiar-"

"How about now?" she said, sweeping her hand towards the bolted door.

Donatello jerked back before glancing around April's apartment where they had stationed themselves for a day of coding. It had been many months since he and April had undertaken a project together and it was proving itself to be a welcome return to old habits. Tonight she had beaming, more enthusiastic and animated than ever, and he had been swept up right along with it, for once dismissing the notion that it had nothing to do with him. And so they had worked. And ate. And worked some more. Evidence of their light dinner – a fragrant Pad Siew - was still stacked up in the sink, with only loose candies to fuel them onward, scattered rather out of place among the pads of notes and their shamelessly overclocked laptops. Beside him sat a thrice emptied coffee cup, and had not even hit his lower limit. He had been pacing his caffeine, expecting to be at least another four hours before they called it a night. Or so he had thought.

"N-Now?"

"Let's do it, Donnie. We can reschedule another night to finish up, right?"

"Reschedule? _Now_?"

He inwardly cringed, all too aware of his embarrassing quirk of repeating things that caught him off guard. Having molded himself to the chair and getting elbow deep into the testing phase, a part of him was reluctant tear himself away, but an even larger part was curious. Perhaps a walk _would_ be nice. Something to add to his limited, albeit unusual, lexicon of experiences.

"Yep." she said, "Walking around without any real purpose except to _walk_. How about it? You can't say you've truly lived without trying it at least once."

This time his grin almost appeared sad, "I'd love to but..." he glanced down at his body,"it's a little difficult to appear inconspicuous. Even in New York."

" _Pff!_ Such a flimsy excuse for a master in the art of deception. Wait here. I have an idea."

April bounced to her feet and headed down the hallway towards her bedroom, shoes clacking merrily on the timber panels. When out of sight, Donatello let go a nervous huff, fully aware of her ability to conjure up the most terrifying of plans. In the distance he could hear her drag something from beneath the bed and rummage around. After less than a minute, she returned brandishing several bulky items of clothing. Donatello started in surprise:

"For me?"

"Care of the thrift store."

He pushed away from the table and stood to receive the offering. To his pleasant surprise, all traces of the former owners had been washed away and reinstated with the familiar smell of her laundry detergent. Apples. It was nice.

"Don't take this the wrong way." she said, a trace of concern flitting across her, "I know you don't often wear stuff like this, but these just seemed the right fit. I couldn't resist."

He dumped the pile on the dining table before holding up a grey hooded jacket, long and wide enough to slip over his carapace. It was only remarkable, perhaps, in its ability to make him appear anything but.

"It does look about right."

It was only when he noticed himself removing his elbow pads that he realized he was agreeing to her excursion. The jacket was soon on, falling to his waist, and without question far more comfortable than some of the ludicrous get-ups he had worn in the past.

"Hey." Donatello looked down the length of his body. "Not bad."

April punctuated his thought with a sharp clap.

"I knew it! I knew it would fit as soon as I saw it!"

He did a half spin, "What can I say?"

"How about: _where are the matching pants?_ "

She picked up the pair of drawstring slacks and flung them over his shoulder. Donatello wasted no time in punching a foot through the first leg. He yanked the pants up past the lower quarter of his shell and secured the cord. Then another thought struck him.

"I'm starting to feel like this may have been planned."

"Well..." she said, hovering on the word, "maybe a pre-emptive strike would be a better way to think of it. Plus, a bunch more of this stuff Raph and Mikey have been asking to stockpile. You know how they love to go among the people."

Donatello slipped the jacket hood up over his head. Only the most central part of his face remained visible.

"I'm positive Mikey forgets we have T-cell trackers."

"I'm under the impression he knows and does not care." She patted his jacket lapel down. If there was one thing Donatello could wrap his head around regarding clothes, it was all the micro-adjusting. As if to prove his point, she flipped down the end of his sleeve, "And believe it or not, I actually got the idea for the app from Mikey. You know… track where you are, make a map as you go, share with your brothers… no more panicky nights wondering whether or not he's at his girlfriend's house." She rummaged around the pile finding some large, downy socks, "As for _you,_ I at least owe you a postmix coke for your help tonight. At the _very_ least. And it goes without saying, a fifty percent dividend if our app actually makes any money."

Postmix. The addition of soda to syrup that was unmatched by anything in a can or bottle. She just had to dangle that cherry in front of him.

"You really think this will work?"

"The app or the disguise?" she asked innocently.

He held up a large boot. Sturdy. Efficient. There was no doubt it would fit.

"Either."

April held up the matching shoe and grinned: "Both."

...

Every journey, as the old proverb went, began with the first step. And these particular steps were perhaps the most challenging – remaining unnoticed inside her building. People, he reasoned, were much apt to take a second look at someone walking down the apartment corridor than someone in the street. And even though it was only twenty yards to the nearest exit, it was still twenty yards of nowhere to hide.

After getting the 'all clear' thumbs-up from April at the spyhole, they emerged into the carpeted hallway. A baby's thin and endless wailing drifted towards them in waves. Despite the cold, he broke into a light sweat. From the time since Donatello could remember, it had been instilled in him to remain invisible to humans. He fought back, calming himself for the short trip to the fire well, but the relief was short lived when an older woman's warbling voice came seeping from the opposite doorway.

"April?! April, _darling_? Is that you, April?"

April's face drained of color.

"Oh, crap… Donnie, you'd better-"

Before she could even finish he had maneuvered himself a dozen feet down the hall, hugging the wall tight. Without a second warning, the closest apartment door swung in. Framed by the jamb stood a flour dusted woman, her ashy hair pinned back as tightly as the skin across her knuckle of a nose The woman wiped her hands down on her apron.

"April, darling, I need to ask something."

Donatello watched on in silent panic as April laced her gloves together, not deviating her attention for one second to where he remained crouched.

She flashed an even smile.

"Certainly, Mrs Kuzkin."

"Are you using your junk mail, darling? I told Vika to leave mine alone, but can you believe – he is putting ours straight in the trash! Just like that!" she clapped her hands and speckles of flour went flying,"Who would pay five dollars for the fancy paper when it comes free in the letterbox?!"

April blinked but otherwise remained motionless.

"You _want_ junk mail?" she repeated in confusion.

Just to her right, Donatello's palms had broken into a sweat, hoping against hope that her neighbor would not glance down the hall. April had mentioned this resident to him before, a nosey but kind woman who often asked for bizarre favors for which she would repay by gifting bullet-proof strudel. He realized, quite ironically, that April had undersold the extent of crazy.

"Ya, darling. The junk letters in the mail. Do you have any, darling?"

"I… uh… not currently," she conceded at length, "but I'll be sure to keep some aside for you."

Mrs Kuzkin slapped a floury hand against the chest of her apron.

"You are a doll! I must sound off my rockers! I'm making Christmas books… uh… a photo book… scrapbooking. Scrapbooking with the scrap paper, but the lump tossed _everythink_."

"That's… awful."

"And if you don't mind, darling – the ones for… ah… the flower ones, I like. For the… what do you say… flowers. Many flowers."

"Florist flyers? I'll keep an eye out for them."

"Fantastic, darling! And listen to me," Mrs Kuzkin's voice dropped to a conspiratorial rasp, "Don't you ever get married if you want a moments peace in your life. I have been listening to Vika talk about golf a week straight! He never played in his life! You're a smart girl. You don't need a man. Just a good cucumber, _this_ long."

Mrs Kuzkin held her fingers a respectable distance apart before laughing at her own joke. April gave a nervous titter before blushing into a deep red. But something was wrong. Donatello could see it in the way April's chin tilted ever so slightly upward. He quickly suspected Mrs Kuzkin's attention was beginning to drift towards him when April struck:

"GREEN!"she practically yelped. It worked, Mrs Kuzkin's eyes snapping back with elastic speed towards her. "Who couldn't do with more green in their diet?"

From his corner of the hall, Donatello could barely hold it together. Either could her neighbor. She cackled like a bird, a sound that echoed sharply in the narrow space.

"April! You are _terrible_!"

"Terrible and late." April glanced down at her watch, "I'd better be off, you have yourself a good night Mrs Kuzkin."

"Yes, darling. And I have a little reward coming for you!" The woman held up her floury hands and wriggled her fingers, leaving little allusion to the fact more strudel was on the way. With a small wave and a weak smile, April began to walk in the opposite direction until the door clicked shut. She stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

"Stairs?" she whispered.

He gave a curt nod and pried himself off the wall, arriving at the stairwell without further incident. April pulled the door open with a creak. They slumped as the door swung shut behind them. Relief came gushing out all at once:

"April - that was _awesome_."

She gave his arm a light pat, "I learned from the best." Her mouth fell open. Then shut. An intent frown emerged, "But can we not mention that cucumber thing to anyone, ever?"

"So, the gourd family in general is off limits?"

"Ah, yeah."

"And no dietary supplements of any kind?"

Irritation flashed across her face, "What do _you_ think?"

It was time to stop before she kicked him down the remainder of the stairs. He grinned back as innocently as he could muster.

"I think I'd like to retain the use of my legs."

…

They exited the apartment block and stepped onto the sidewalk without fanfare. Side by side they were rendered seamlessly into the stream of pedestrians around them, navigating the aging sidewalk through person after person after person. They almost didn't exist as they all whizzed by, glued to their phones, or the ground, or their own internal wonderings. It amazed him, to be so invisible right out in the open. April was right. But she had assuaged any remaining doubts with a contingency plan.

"If anyone is looking too long, just face me, and we'll drift off to the side, okay?"

"Sure, no problem."

They crossed the next intersection near Fifth, Donatello careful to ensure his hoodie was secure and head tilted down as people skimmed by. He kept silent. Just one lingering glance at his face could cause a panic. But April kept him close, dogged his side, and drew attention away like a pro. And he was more than grateful for it, letting him remain, for all intents and purposes, a sheep in wolf's clothing.

"You're doing good." she said under her breath, "It'll thin out a little bit up ahead."

It was different out on street level, he decided. Down below in the sewers, the damp and the ever present tinge of waste pervaded the gloom of the claustrophobic warrens. The rooftops, on the other hand, were like the peaks of mountains, offering the freshest air and the most spectacular views of the city. But at surface level, beneath the luminescence of thousands of streetlights, the city seemed to writhe with energy, oddly bringing to mind bacteria he saw squirming beneath a microscope. Lights, people, smells, buzzing skyhigh sprawl. It all mixed into a glorious soup quite unlike anything he had experienced from the other two extremities. It would almost be overwhelming had he not had April to anchor himself to. His mouth clamped shut as he did what he did best: observe and dissect until he could make head and tails of the bombardment.

One clear thought soon emerged: _So, this is what it's like to be normal._

Perhaps the most disconcerting adjustment was ignoring the sheer number of strangers he was practically scraping with his clothes.

"Do people always walk that close?"

"Definitely not by choice," she spoke, her volume equally low, "More of a necessity. You think you're living on top of your brothers is bad? Imagine millions of other people. Don't even get me started on the subway."

They took a moment to steer around an unspooling group exiting a corporate building, remaining quiet as several businessmen brushed past them heading in the opposite direction. Souring cologne and low murmuring voices of people on cell phones intruded their space and siphoned away.

"Whew! It's colder out here than I thought." April said, rubbing her hands together. She tugged her beanie a little further down before flattening her hands beneath her elbows, "Are you warm enough?"

Donatello patted the wool above his upper plastron.

"I'll have you know that I got to your place without any of this winter gear on."

"Yes, but you're bordering on indestructible. Or you keep plutonium bars in your belt. I haven't decided."

"I would not say no to some plutonium…" he muttered, then realizing how weird this sounded, added, "I've been reading an article on nuclear applications in Modern Science. I would love to replicate some of the studies…. maybe even switch them up a little, see what I can do."

Only he remained unaware that he could say anything remotely similar and not sound like he was kidding. April laughed again.

"You never cease to amaze me. Terrify and amaze me. And I almost mean that as a compliment."

He could feel the blush firing up before it even appeared - a stripe of muddied green across his face. What was he, fifteen again? Unable to keep the non-sequiters to a dull roar?

"I haven't been out of the lair much!" he blurted out. Then, realizing that a comment like that didn't exactly help his situation, slapped a heavy hand across his eyes, "I'm… going to shut-up, now."

Her laughter sprinkled over his embarrassment like pops of light, which she topped with a lazy slap on his arm.

"Don, you have more ideas in a day than most people have in a lifetime. Don't you dare stop."

Taken aback with the compliment, Donatello was embarrassed to find himself blushing harder, and in true form, acted as if he had neither heard nor deserved it.

"Is – ah – is this the right direction?"

"Don't you trust me?"

The inflection made it obvious she was teasing, but he wanted this for the record -

"Of course." he said, as a background train of thought logged every street name and turn they took, cross-referencing it with the most mundane and exotic of facts: from the Italian influenced architecture to the composition of the weather-stained cement sidewalk. Wherever it was they were heading, it was an indirect route cutting through some of the relatively quieter streets in Nolita.

"East River Park." she said, her eyes fixated on their feet, "It's not too late, but more than dark enough to keep under the radar."

The revelation satisfied the part of his brain that had been searching for answers. Sometimes, he found he couldn't even think over the relentless drive of his curiosity. Except, perhaps, around April. There it seemed to languish into a slow moving stream before the rapids struck in her absence.

"East River Park?" he said, as a precisely archived memory flashed in his mind, "I haven't been there in years! But… I was bleeding at the time. And trying to evade a couple of people carrying guns while trying not to break the very delicate tech I had rescued from their stash. They had stolen it first, so technically I was reclaiming it for the greater good. But, anyway… it probably doesn't count as a walk."

"No." she said with a toss of her head, eyes wide and firm, "No it does not."

"Lesson learned, there." he confided with a reassuring grin, "I'm much more at home at, well, at home. Kudos to the internet which has made it infinitely easier to source supplies."

She gave a long, sympathetic sigh.

"I don't know how you do it, sometimes."

Curious, he looked past the rim of his hoodie towards her.

"Do what?"

"Not surface for weeks at a time." The worry on her face was evident, no matter how much she tried to disguise it. "I swear you must forget what the sky looks like."

"I look at the scenery all day…" he joked, swinging his head back towards the sidewalk as they pressed onwards, "If you count my desktop background."

"All engines and star charts?"

"Not quite. The Northern Lights. And…" he revealed lightly, "I was actually planning a trip up to Canada to see them for myself."

April's head snapped back towards him.

"What? _When_?!"

"February next year." The time frame was precarious, and before she could protest he added, "Don't worry, I'll be here for your wedding."

Her reaction surprised him: open mouthed and silent - April O'Neil had been rendered speechless. It took a good minute, he calculated in a quiet panic, but eventually she was able to break free:

"Oh… good."

"It should be." he said, not quite feeling as enthusiastic about it before he had told her. But there was no way he could tolerate hanging around in the city come her honeymoon. What he needed was somewhere dark and cold to crawl into and restructure.

"It sounds amazing… getting away from it all." she said softly, then: "How are you crossing the border?"

"Using good ol' Ninja Stealth." he squeezed out a grin and wriggled his mittens, "Actually, getting _me_ in is the easy part. It's the transport that's proving a problem. I wanted to drive the van up there, but I might have to take the spare cycle instead. Pack a tent. Keep off the main roads. I figure I could do that much."

"J-just you alone?"

"Yep." he gave a casual lift and drop his arms, "Just me. Leo had South America. Mikey had his week long bender in Southern California. Raph goes missing days at a time on the regular. I believe I'm due."

Though, he thought quietly, it was not like he had never traveled before. During his brother's sabbatical in Colombia he had made a brief visit. He had also been interstate countless times to stay at the farmhouse. But travelling alone as a means of examining his life? This was something long _over_ due.

April let out a noiseless exhale, "How long are you going for?"

"Not too long." he said reassuringly, "A few months, maybe. Six months, tops. I need to travel extra carefully up there in the winter, make sure I'm refueled for each leg of the journey. "

She seemed to be focusing on the tips of her shoes as she answered.

"You're absolutely right, it's important you keep safe." April gave a toss of her head, clearly apologetic for her concern, "I'm sorry… it's just… it's so out of the blue…"

"I guess it is." he said, "But the idea just struck me, and I knew: this what I had to do."

A ghost of a smile emerged at the corners of her mouth.

"I understand completely."

Then she said nothing. Their footsteps fell like beats on the pavement, a tempo that had long played between them. Stacked against the whir of traffic and wailing of an ever-present distant siren, it seemed to echo loudest. Glancing up, he found them to be walking beneath evergreen fronds that stretched like fingers across the high wall of a private park. Donatello had not noticed how pretty the trees were in the city before. They had already traveled far.

"Maybe it's a good thing." she said, a trace of humor back in her voice, "Starting off small, tonight."

"By going on a walk?"

"Mm-hmm. Your very first one. You're a natural."

Donatello tipped his head towards his feet, "Yeah, you'd almost think I'd used these things befo-"

" _Donnie!_ "

He felt himself yanked backwards as a delivery truck went roaring past where he was about to step. The shaken driver blasted his horn, screaming out the window as he sailed away.

 _"Get outta th' way, moron!"_

With more than a few curious glances in their direction, they slipped quickly through the crowds and resumed pace as if nothing had happened.

"Yep." she breathed at long last, "It's almost uncanny how well you have that bipedal motion down pat."

" _Whoa,_ that was close!"

"Yeah," she scoffed, "A little _too_ close."

A sheepish giggle left him, recognizing Mikey's saying at once: the classic in-joke with that seemed to crop up from near-miss incident to near-miss incident. As a family of trained ninja, it was something that was almost a little too common.

"Ah... thanks." His alarm downgraded to relief, "There you go, saving my shell again."

"Oh, please. Don't mention it - but for the love of all that's holy, try not to get run yourself killed – I dread having to explain to your brothers why the remote's never getting fixed."

"Ouch. Noted."

She frowned, "You know what? I'd better -"

April came closer to his side before looping her arm through his. His entire left side succumbed to the unfamiliarity before eclipsing pleasant and heading straight into magnificent.

"Just 'til the end of the next block." she explained in a throw-away tone, "That way I won't lose you."

A grin peaked at the corners of his mouth, "Seems like a sensible precaution."

"I think so." she added, giving his coat a gentle squeeze, "Now, tell me all about this trip of yours…"

.

They had been walking in time, April's warm arm looped through his, as she listened to the details of his planned invasion of the North by means of a micro submersible. From there, he figured, it would be easy. He would reassemble then ride his bike until he reconnected with the highway. Child's play, really. As he talked, he could feel her grip getting tighter and tighter. It was only when his elbow became numb that he dared speak up.

"How's my blood pressure reading?"

It took a second, but soon April glanced down at his arm before flicking her gaze up in horror.

"Oh my god – I'm so sorry." She eased off her grip, "It's just… I'm worried. How are you getting back?"

"Same way I get in. I'll hide the sub underwater, relocate it, and disassemble the bike to fit it back in. I've timed it down to eight minutes to get the bike apart."

His answer had April pressing her lips inwards in thought.

"Please, be careful. There's so much that could go wrong."

"April," came the smooth version of himself, " _Careful_ is my middle name."

As soon as he had said it, he knew that he had made a mistake. She pounced on it like a tiger.

"That's a quite a claim from someone that set their lab on fire last week."

How the heck did she know about that?

"Uh, that… that was an accident."

"I would hope most lab fires _are_." she said with a wicked poke into his ribs, "When Mikey told me, I almost had a heart attack."

Michelangelo. Of course it would have been Michelangelo.

Defeated, he let out a sigh:

"Would you believe that I changed my middle name to 'Careful' _after_ that fire?"

Her mouth slanted, refusing to surrender all trust.

"It might take a little more convincing."

"Believe me, I've gone over the plans multiple times, factored in redundancies, have backup plans - the works. Everything is going to be fine. I'll have my T-cell so… you can all keep a track of my whereabouts using your app – how about that?"

"It's… a little better."

"Please. Don't worry about me. I'll be back to repair the appliances another day. I mean, have you noticed how time just seems to get faster and faster? Click your fingers. It will be that fast."

Her eyes flitted up and down his body, "Let me guess: you've already set up an experiment to figure out if your time perspective theory holds true."

"I would but... for that I'd need the plutonium."

April chuckled into her closed lips and fell into a thoughtful quiet. Passing by an empty storefront, he glimpsed at their reflection. April was more beautiful than ever, all fire and freckles, and partnered with her sparkling wit, a woman to behold. As for himself, in the passing years he had phased neatly out of gawkiness, into something hard and almost angular. Splinter was not one to go lax on training no matter their age. But there was a nagging worry that his hardness had seeped below the surface and settled in deeper... unless that is what their Master had wanted all along. To truly protect them from the world.

They followed the street along through the endless cross section of people and past the intervals of alleys where the smell of urine, trash, and spray paint reined. He chanced a peek, wondering if there was a reason she had stopped talking. She seemed a million miles away, lost in thought. Or so he had thought - until she thumped him lightly on the arm.

"How you holding up?"

"Me?"

"Mm-hm."

Her tone was curious, light-hearted. To the point. So very April. The cold air had stained her cheeks pink. City lights danced in her eyes. And she was here. With him. Arm in arm. And all at once he was lost. Just... lost.

"That bad, huh?" she answered for him.

She had no idea.

He went to say something, and fast, but everything he wanted to say felt so trite and insubstantial to how he felt. Tongue rendered immobile, he nodded. Seconds turned to more seconds. Only sheer terror of discovery forced an answer.

"I'm good."

He clenched his eyes at how blasé it felt rolling out of his mouth. To his surprise, April smiled.

"Good." she echoed softly with a nod of her head.

He felt her press into his side little firmer. From nowhere, she gave a light titter, then:

"How is- " "Whe- "

"You go." April said quickly.

"No, no... please, after you."

For a second he thought April was going to protest, but instead she clacked her tongue with a worried expression.

"Last time I was over, Splinter mentioned something about heading up to Casey's farmhouse. I wasn't sure if he had brought it up with the rest of you, yet."

Donatello made a puzzled sound in his throat, acutely aware of a long ignored twig of worry that had settled in over the last few months regarding their master.

"No. He hasn't." he admitted at last, "Did he mention why?"

She unhooked her arm from his: "I couldn't get it out of him."

Donatello's brow rutted in the way he'd been told a million times before - ratcheted tight until the answer came to him.

"I'm not sure, either, to be honest." Splinter. At the farmhouse. Why? It struck him. "Although… Sensei's arthritis really kicked in this last year. We've been trying various treatments at home with moderate success, but he's always believed that the fresh air up at Northhampton eases his symptoms a little. And being outside in the sun... there's no medication that quite captures the same thing." He paused to correct himself, "Well, prednisone, NSAIDs, and a whole slew of drugs, really, aside from the more inherent natural supplements of vitamin D, folic acid, and perhaps-"

"But not quite, right?" April interjected with a modicum of humor.

"Not quite. Splinter never specifically complains about his ailments. He just becomes a lot more... _cantankerous._ And here's me, thinking it might have been Mikey giving him more grief than usual with all his topside fraternizing." He released a deep breath, trying to ease the tension in his chest. Everyone worried about Splinter, but when it came to the particulars of medical care, the responsibility fell squarely on him. "When does he want us to go?"

April shook her head, "That's the thing, D. He was quite insistent about staying alone. I believe he may want some time away from the kids."

"Is that how you still see us? As kids?"

Her eyes widened, "Kids? God, no!"

"...because I was trying to find the right time to tell you I accidentally drank the bleach under your sink." He patted his face, "Do I look a weird color to you?"

She rolled her eyes but could not hide her amusement.

"I stand corrected."

It was not often he got one over April. Victory was sweet.

"If he's as determined as you say to spend some time alone, I'm not about to stop him. He may have gone grey, but he can still whoop our collective shells before his tea cools on a good day. I'll just make sure he's loaded up with meds and familiar with his T-cell so we can keep in contact while he's away. Convincing Leo will be a different story."

Relief washed over April's face.

"Oh, thank goodness. You know, I'm happy to take him up there... I'd do anything for him. He's been like another father to me. Ever since we really _were_ just kids."

Kids. Had they ever really been kids?

"It seems like such a long time ago." Donatello mused, "I cringe at what you must have thought of us back then. A bunch of teenagers, all ego and sharp edges. Literally," he gestured to where their weapons would be, "sharp edges. Then you came along and made us-"

"Softer?" April said with skeptical rise of one brow.

Donatello shook his head.

"Better."

He swallowed. There it was. As close to the truth as he could ever go. He wondered what she would do or say, or if she would even acknowledge exactly what he meant.

"Well," her voice softened, "Speaking for myself, I don't know where I'd be if I hadn't met you. All I know is I wouldn't trade it for all the software in Silicon Valley... no matter _how_ much of a lucrative trade it would be."

" _All_ the software in Silicon Valley? I wouldn't stop you."

She _hmm'd_ airily.

"I'd probably just use the financial windfall to track you back down. Don't think you're getting away that easy."

Donatello unleashed a snort and giggle, loud enough for heads to skew their way. Actually, he thought red faced, not so much a snort as an _oink_ \- a nice dusty number from the archives he thought he had learnt to pare back. But his outburst had April grinning madly:

"Ha! I almost forgot that sound!"

"Wow – that was, uh... that was embarrassing."

"Are you kidding?! That's how I know I _got_ to you!" She let out a misted stream of air that ruffled her bangs, "I haven't seen you laugh like that in _ages_ … you're always so busy with things to do or make or fix or... do. I don't know what it is." She cast an uneasy glance his way. "Maybe it's me."

He refuted with a firm shake of his head.

"Not unless you've developed some kind of allergy to reptiles."

"That'd be my luck. But, really. How long has it been since you've been above ground? Weeks? I've seen more of your brothers in the last month than I have of you in the last four. And now… I can barely tempt you up with the promise of a grilled cheese sandwich. Oh, how things change."

Donatello gave an amiable shrug.

"I've just been slugging away in the lab. Nothing nefarious, I assure you."

But she was right. It had been a long time since he had seen topside and even longer since he could remember laughing. Tonight with April was just like old times. Just her, and him, and the world before them. It was the most fun he'd had since the announcement of her engagement.

"And you've been busy with your wedding arrangements, I assume."

She shot him a smile that defied anything he recognized, something almost edging on wistful.

"You know what they say about _assuming_ , padawan."

"Let me guess- that it's a viable application of Occam's Razer?"

April retaliated with a playful slap of his arm: " _Ha ha._ "

Knowing he might have pushed too far, he eased back.

"I mean it. You seem really happy. I'm pleased."

"Donnie, I... uh-" she stumbled on her thoughts and fell silent.

Over the course that time he had come to know every inflection in her voice, every mote of concern. And right now she sounded nervous. Spine-tingling, edge-of-the-cliff, _nervous_. He could only recall a few other instances she had been like this. It had never ended well.

"April, is everything okay?"

"Me!" she said brightly, "Oh, yeah. I'm... perfectly fine."

"Oh. Are you sure?"

April pressed her lips together and nodded, "I just wanted to get out and talk, you know? Away from the computer. Hell, maybe I'll even get some inspiration out here. Please. Tell about your week. Help me get my mind off things."

"Ah... sure."

For a moment his mind went blank as he scrambled for very neutral and unseasoned ground. It always went back to his family. The topic was practically a sinkhole.

"Did I fill you in on the latest family project? Raph wanted some help making modifications to his shell cycle and roped me in. He got the idea from one of those TV shows that soup up their clients' bikes with superfluous design components."

"You mean ' _American Chopper'_? He vaguely mentioned something."

Donatello verified his memory a moment, then:

"Yes. Yep. That's the one. We're in the middle of welding the redesigned body into an aerodynamically-sound _and_ terrapin-inspired shape. Even Mikey's offered to do some designs on the chassis."

"Oh," she asked with a curious lilt, "of what?"

He slapped his shoulder: "Scutes."

Her brows shot up in amusement, "And Leo's okay with this? A big bawdy turtle cycle on the street?"

"Well. We certainly got his patented _look_ when he found out about it."

"Oh, Donnie, I am _familiar_ with that look - remember the last time I brought down a bottle of tequila and a pack of cards? That did not go down well with him - until the third deal."

"My brother, at times, can be a bit of..." He lowered his voice and gave a surreptitious glance around at the streams of people that had all but ignored his existence. Satisfied Leonardo wasn't around: "an old woman."

After April's bright crack of laughter died down, he continued:

"Believe it or not, he's just a big of a thrill seeker as Raph - even if the underlying causes are different. That's why I have him working on the handlebars."

"Leo on the handlebars, hey?"

He gave a quick nod.

"You're probably aware of how he likes to take control of a situation. But I have to give credit where credit's due - the molding he carved out for the hand-guard is absolutely remarkable."

Her eyes darted back to him, "I _have_ to this beast, now."

Donatello gave an imaginary rev on imaginary handlebars.

"Just imagine me with wheels."

The open invitation had April's gaze lingering on him longer than usual, across the heavy thread of his pants, and down to his equally non-descript boots. Slowly her focus dragged upwards until she caught him back in the eye. Donatello returned a gentle smile. Caught staring, she turned away with a blush.

"It's okay." he said, "I still don't know if I look stranger with or without clothes."

"Oh, with. Definitely." came from under her breath. Shocked, she slapped a gloved hand up to her forehead, "I... uh... that sounded-"

"It's fine." Donatello reassured her.

A slow hiss escaped between her teeth as she nervously picked at the buckle of her jacket.

"No. No, it's not. You are not, in any way, strange. Okay? I'm just sure you can't wait to get back to mine and out of those clothes – and... ah..." she blinked rapidly as a creeping rash peeked out from beneath her scarf, "Tell me I did not just say that..."

He delivered the most innocent grin, "I _can't_ wait, as a matter of fact."

"My god," she dropped her head in disgust, "will you _please_ let me know if you have something in that medicine cabinet of yours to get this foot out of my mouth?"

He couldn't resist: "Only ethanol."

"Oh, Donnie. Trust me. You do not want to go down that road. Speaking of which, take a turn here."

...


	2. Part 2

Rounding the corner, they came to the front of a large complex that took over a quarter of a block and rose five levels high. The sleek granite-lined lobby was set a small distance off the sidewalk, above which a back-lit sign brandished the company name in neon blue: _Falcon Pharmaceuticals._ A spark of recognition hit him.

"Hey- this is where you work, right?"

They slowed to a halt.

"That would be me." Her focus scattered over the entrance in a way which Donatello recognized as checking for stray eyes and ears. A habit she had picked up from his family. "I thought we could do the walk-by tour."

Donatello peered through the thick glass walls into the darkened foyer where paper thin LED screen played endless loops of trademarked products. He could recognize most of them as astronomically expensive prescriptive medications _(Isolel – clear your mind today!_ ). Others drew blanks.

"Impressive." he choked out, eyes scanning up to the inscrutable floors and ventilation chambers above. The place reeked money. And with money came world class facilities. What he wouldn't do to have a look inside.

She looped her fingers through the boundary fence.

"This is just the satellite office for the bio-robotics division. The company recently invested in a new thirty thousand dollar scanning electron microscope for our location, which the senior technicians are getting serious training to use… but I have this gut feeling you'd figure that bastard out in ten minutes flat."

"Ten minutes? Twenty seems more realistic."

She gave a quiet chuckle.

"Every time I pass the EM lab, I think about how much you'd like it."

They stood a moment, dwarfed not only by its size but by the circumstances that would keep him permanently on the outside of places like this. Or permanently inside. He shuddered.

"It's more fun on the outside. Trust me." April said, practically reading his mind. She released the fence. It snapped back into place with a metallic jitter. "Want to know a secret? The longer I'm here, the more I think about leaving to reopen my dad's antique shop."

"R-Really?" His head swiveled back towards her in shock, "Why?"

She released a heavy sigh.

"I think I'm at a point where I want more from my life than achieving other people's goals."

"But… what about all your years of studying? Don't you think it would be a waste?"

"Me? No. You?" she leveled her gaze at him, "You should have your name on a side of a building like that. I've always thought that. During college you were mentoring me on things you had learned from reading a book, _once_. Do you know how smart you are, Donnie? Do you really know?"

He temporarily dismissed the notion. The thought of April abandoning her career felt like she were leaving the last part of him, too. Perhaps all she needed a fresh perspective. He could buy time.

"Don't leave." He gestured towards her building, "You don't have to work here… but you have a chance to really make a difference. Maybe we could…"

"Work together?"

"Yes." he said with quiet conviction, "Work together. I mean," he said at length, thinking primarily of their earlier evening "we already do."

They both took a moment to wonder why they had not attempted the obvious.

"That's a thought." she murmured to herself. Then, "Donnie, we don't need this place to do it. If our app works out, we could get the capital to hire equipment for your lab. A milling machine, oscilloscope... whatever your heart desires, I can get my hands on it. Hell, why not even a new centrifuge to replace the one Mikey beat up? What do you think?"

He was thinking big already: "I have about three potential patents I could get through to production phase within the next 12 months."

The both exchanged a surprised glance as the opportunity bloomed before them. April leaned back on her foot and folded her arms.

"What about your trip to Canada?"

To him, the answer was obvious.

"It can wait."

"Are you sure you're willing to put your plans on hold-"

"It can wait." he said again, "Please don't feel like you're stopping me from anything I want to do. An idea like this -you have to act on it. Technology waits for no mutant. And if it succeeds…"

He didn't even need to finish. With enough money, it wouldn't even matter that he existed off the grid. Money was the ticket to get anywhere. Even as a mutant.

A fleeting look of worry gathered on her face.

"I don't know…"

"Really. It can wait."

A soundless sigh left her, then: "Only if you're certain."

"April," he insisted again, "I'm positive."

April nodded. Stopped. Nodded again. Her arms uncrossed and fell along her side. Finally, she lifted a finger and pointed at him.

"You have to go. Promise me. It doesn't matter _when_ , but promise me you'll go. I haven't seen you this happy about something in a long time… and I don't want to be the reason you had to change your plans."

Smiling, Donatello crossed his heart with an awkward bend of his mitten.

"I promise. I'll go."

A small huff left her, satisfied at last, "Are we really doing this?"

"I'm in if you are." he shrugged, "Anything would be a step up from the remote I.T. support I'm doing now. What do _you_ think?"

"I think…" she said carefully, "I think when we get back, we need to hash this out."

He nodded: "Definitely."

"I mean, it could be _our_ name on the side of a building." The erratic possibility gleamed in her eye, "Or some weird amalgamation of the two."

"What are you proposing?" he asked, curious and amused.

She upturned her hands and scrunched her face: "Donril?"

They stared at each other for but a second before bursting out into a nervous chuckle. April slapped his arm.

"Come on. There's something else up ahead I think you'll really like."

…

With little more than the command: ' _I'll be right back_.' Donatello found himself in the familiar position of hovering in a dark alley; waiting for April after she had disappeared into a bordering-on-condemnable diner. Diner was almost too good a word for 'Frankies'. Grease had collected into the corners of the windows like real-life vignetting, set off perfectly by rust-pitted chrome fixtures inside. Decaying 'Specials!' signs had given him little faith that the side-excursion would result in anything remotely edible. Nevertheless, he grinned like an idiot. Anything to fuel the adventure was worth the risk. Then a new sound broke into his private meanderings…

 _Woof! Woof!_

The bark was hoarse and hollow. Donatello stepped back out of the half light and along the shadowy wall. The jangle of a choker chain was soon followed by an aging pit bull snuffling at his feet. Donatello tried his best to shake him off:

" _Shoo, boy_."

"Dexter, get back!" The owner, remarkably similar in appearance to his pet, caught up and plucked the leads end off the ground, "Sorry, man. He ain't normally like that."

Still semi-obscured in the shadows, Donatello waved a dismissive hand.

"No problem."

Their retreat was just as sudden. Donatello watched as the stocky pair trotted away. He didn't often come across dogs, but noticed that they had a tendency to be curious about him and his brothers. Something he made a mental note to amend. The ninja beneath the scientist. The _freezing_ ninja beneath the scientist. Still waiting for April to emerge, he did a little warming-up jig on the spot. Normally if out on a night like this he would be moving faster and much higher up. If Leonardo had been leading a training run, he would have undoubtedly broken out in sweat by now. The cold was more indisputable when moving slow, and his semi-homothermic blood felt every degree it dropped below mild. All that seemed to disappear when he heard the diner door strike the small shopkeeper bell as April made her way out balancing two cups in her hands.

"Did someone say a large post-mix coke?"

Without missing a beat, he answered - "That'd be the large turtle in the dark alley."

A giggle slipped out beside her groan as she placed the beverage in his grip. He twisted the straw with his lips and sipped. The caffeine and sugar hit him like a freezing, sweet punch.

"Cripes… that's good."

"Real sugar." she revealed with a quick rise and fall of her brows.

"Mmm." He sipped again, this time downing half the contents in one gulp, "How much do I owe you?"

"Good lord, Donnie, if we're going to play that game, I'd be broke." She sipped, winced, then shivered. "Shall we?"

"After you."

They stepped back onto the thoroughfare making their way east around their spirited conversation, as their surroundings gradually morphed into non-descript refurbished 19th century tenements. It was unexpectedly wonderful just strolling down the street with her, discussing everything from their new venture, to the robotic prototype he had in mind to develop, and off-tracking to the downright hypothetical. Never dull and always entertaining, he never felt so _himself_ as when he was in her company.

Her laughter brought him back to earth.

"A solar powered laptop and a satellite phone?" April gave a humored toss of her head, "You know that's cheating, right?"

"There were stipulations?"

"Well, _you_ can think of it as a 'no wishing for more wishes' kind of thing."

"So," he said slowly, "Just to clarify: the solar powered laptop and satellite phone are a little excessive?"

Her gaze rounded back at him.

"Careful with that brain of yours, Donnie, you might cut a diamond."

It was only through a decade of practice that Donatello was able to conceal his smirk as he flirted with the edge of her patience. He reconsidered his answer.

"Okay, let me think – I can have nothing to escape the island with, is that correct?"

"Yep. No satellite phones, helicopter or yachts. " She thought a moment, rattling the ice chips in her cup, "Actually, I think the whole point is not necessarily about escaping. Just, you know, what you'd take to pass the time."

He gave an exaggerated rub of his chin.

"Just my wits and three things, eh?"

"Donnie, you are _quite_ welcome to add your wits. Maybe they will help you make a _decision_."

She finished _that_ thought with a gurgling last sip of her drink. Donatello glanced over:

"Done there?"

She tipped the cup upwards: "All post-mixed out."

"Let me."

Curious, she passed it over. With the payload in hand, he took a short running jog up to an alley way ahead of them, springing over the barbed-wire tipped fence, before landing with a near-silent pat of his feet. After a quick scan to check the enclosed quad was safe, he propped open the dumpster and tossed in the spent cups. He was back by her side a moment later. Noticing the look on her face, he returned an apologetic grimace.

"A little _too_ conspicuous?"

"No, it's just…" she said, glancing over her shoulder at the ten foot high fence, "sometimes I forget how agile you are."

He slipped his mittens back on.

"I make it a point to occasionally get out of the lab and into training." He paused to correct himself, "Or more accurately, _Leo_ makes it a point to occasionally get me out of the lab and into training."

"No kidding." They walked a few steps before she added, "You know, there is a _trash can_ up ahead."

He squinted up beside the lanes of sluggish traffic.

"There is?" he asked innocently. She dressed him down with a withering stare.

"Okay, Donnie, I know what you're doing. Stop stalling."

The plea went unheard:

"So… we're still talking about a deserted island, not a _desert_ island, correct? How big is this island? Are we talking several square miles and an abundance of coconut trees?"

"Did anyone ever tell you you're no fun?"

He grinned: "Constantly. Daily. Have you met my brothers?"

"Alright, smart-guy. How about this? Answer the question before I revoke all wi-fi access at my place for the rest of the night. I know it'd kill you, so don't mess with me."

They both knew he could hack in without breaking a sweat - but that was besides the point.

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, "Here it it: A Leatherman, a technical manual on boat construction... and maybe a record of Boston's Greatest Hits." He shrugged, "Just to comply with the terms of the question."

Their footsteps continued steadily amid April's determining silence. Finally, it passed her unspoken test.

"I'd almost say that's cheating if I didn't know how entertaining you find technical manuals."

"Guilty as charged." came his easy confession.

"But, just one thing... how exactly are you going to play that _record_ , genius?"

Donatello's eyes spooled wide. Logic hole. An obvious one, too. One of April's greatest strengths as a scientist was detecting redundancies in code. Something that made her a gifted programmer in her own right.

"I'm sure I could build..." he made a box shape with his arms, " _something_ to get it working."

"Sounds to _me_ like the only thing you'd be playing with that record is Frisbee."

That game point was all hers. His mouth fell open as he waited for divine reason to come pouring out. It didn't. If that wasn't a horrifying thought about his one and only LP left unbroken by Michelangelo, nothing was. Next strategy: diversion.

"Alright, O'Neil. I answered within the T's and C's. Your turn."

" _My_ three things to take to a deserted island? Hmmm…." Deep in thought, she paced onwards. Finally she spoke: "You've got a Leatherman and a manual on boat construction, is that right?"

"Correct."

"Easy. Swap out that Boston record... and I'd take _you_."

"Me?"

He hoped he didn't sound as shocked as he felt, her answer almost enough to resurrect long-buried and long-forgotten sentiments of being special to her. Just as quickly, he filed the errant thought away.

"Oh," April added as an afterthought, "I may even just bring a record player along, too."

Silently, he thanked all deity's above at something tangible he could riff off. He reentered normality at break-neck speed.

"Solar-powered?"

April upturned her slender fingers, "Naturally."

"But, ah… four things." he said, "That's four things: Leatherman, boat manual, record player and... uh, and me."

A sickle of her teeth flashed in the dark: "Four? Oh! Well, who needs that boat manual anyway? I'm sure you could ' _build something'_ without it."

"You could always ditch the record player. Being no record and all."

"That would make sense, wouldn't it?" she glanced back up at him with a cryptic expression, finally adding, "I guess we both suck at this game."

Donatello gave her a sidelong glance. She was all nervous energy brimming to spill. It was little wonder she wanted fresh air. He took a few steps more before answering -

"I suppose we should probably make it a point to not to get abandoned in the first place."

Before she could respond, her attention was snagged by the glimpses of water in the distance. April tilted her chin forward.

"Here we are."

He glanced up, amazed to find themselves already at the edge of the park. They stepped past the perimeter, following a wide tree-lined path through the grassy lawns to the promenade. Dying leaves rattled like whispered secrets above them. And despite the hour, streams of people still wandered around, the ratio more than enough to keep them disguised in plain sight. They arrived quickly at the railing that trimmed the East River and stopped, the faint sound of lapping water beside them.

"That was fast." he said, mostly to himself.

"And it only took three blocks to pry an answer from you."

She took a breath in.

The crisp air coming off the water carried the life of the city- brackish and interspersed with the stench of diesel and waste, all atop the piquant smell of carbon monoxide. In the distance a ferry shuttled its crammed passengers away. Behind them, beyond the boundary of the park, people and traffic bustled by the thousands. The soft hum of engines carried in the distance. Donatello smiled, unsure if he could ever be happier than in this moment.

"You were right." he admitted quietly, "Either Sensei's training has literally rendered me invisible, or people just don't see me."

April turned to him, her scarf flapping over her left shoulder. She flipped it back with a grin of her own.

"Obviously a little column A and a little column B."

"Hm. I hate to upend your theory, but..." he tilted his head in her direction, " _You_ see me."

April's rebuttal was swift: "But I have the advantage of _knowing_ you. So it stands to reason that I can't _unsee_ you. Face it, Donnie. You're stuck with me."

Donatello stifled a chuckle and cast his attention back over the river, where a distant line of Ferries were already making for the port. In the evening they seemed magical, floating specks of light crossing the mysterious and dark threshold that divided the eastern boroughs.

"I guess there could be worse things."

At that, April started: "Worse things! _Worse_ things? Oh, tell me, please, what these worse things are?"

"Welll..." Donatello drew the word out, "How about stepping on a Lego piece?"

"Lego?"

"Mikey." he supplied promptly. Nearly thirty years old and his brother's Star Wars lego sets still adorned his room. None of them would have it any other way.

"I'd try and think of something a _little_ worse than that, if I were you."

"Running out of milk? Raph's late night cereal munchies have resulted in more black coffees than I care to remember. Blech. Or - how about Leo's four-in-the-morning, middle-of-winter, impromptu training sessions?"

April gave a pointed roll of her eyes, "You should be ashamed of yourself, pushing my buttons."

"How could I resist a good scientific inquiry?"

"Oh," she said with a quick tilt of her head, "the classic case of provocation of a test subject just for a response, is it?! You, my friend, need to get out of that lab more often."

"Trust me. As long as _you_ see me, I'm certainly alright if the rest of the world doesn't."

His words were as honest as he felt. They hit hard and without intention. April's face fell. She blinked, almost in shock, before dropping her chin to her arms in thought. There she stayed, stooped at the railing, staring morosely at the churning water of a landing ferry. They watched on in silence as the thinning line of commuters boarded. Guilt twisted in his stomach, but for what reason, he could not be certain. After a time, she spoke.

"Donnie, you deserve that the world sees you. You are one of the most remarkable people I've ever known." She splayed her fingers across her face, "It's just not right."

Donatello fell beside her, watching as the ferry became a pinprick in the night. Ever since they had met her, ever since they had known her, she had been on their side. In a world of billions, she was an all but extinct species.

"I meant what I said, April." Donatello said gently, "I survive okay; better than many others. You could even say that my family has carved out some kind of a niche for ourselves."

A niche was a funny word for a life, but there it was. But his humor was not lost on her.

"Darwinian, is it?"

Donatello gave a conceding nod, "Something very much like that."

April snickered softly into her arms and stood back up.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the most level-headed person I know would take things in their stride."

"Hey, someone needs to be the sensible one."

An upward flick of her brow indicated otherwise.

"I've been around for too many of your 72 hour working sprees to give you a pass on ' _sensible'_. I hope, at least, your brothers have been forcing you into getting some sleep."

"Aside from helping with the cycle, they haven't been around too much." he confessed with a genial shrug, "The appliances have been on an accident free running streak for about, oh, let me think... about three weeks, now."

Impressed, she let forth a sound caught somewhere between a _heh_ and a grunt of approval. The previous record had not even broke two.

"And tell me, has all that free time meant you've been staying up _less_ or _more?_ "

Donatello remained tight-lipped. There was no need for her to know he was heading into hour 43 already. After all, the heat-seeking shuriken weren't going to build themselves. The design was so simple it was ingenious, really. He and his brothers were several degrees cooler than a normal human body, which meant the stars could be launched with disregard to friendly fire. He had already planned on incorporating the tech into several items in their armory. Whether or not they needed the upgrades anymore was completely irrelevant.

"It's hard to say…"

To his dismay, April deciphered his ruse in an instant.

"That's what I thought." She took hold of his upper arms, "Promise me you'll get some rest at _frequent intervals_ for _sane amounts of time_. You're not infallible, Donnie. I worry about you."

He agreed with a slight dip of his head. And meant it.

She let out a relieved sigh.

"Good."

"I've been making some upgrades on some of our weapons arsenal." he revealed quietly, "It's been keeping me up a bit more than usual. That's all."

"Still?"

"It never hurts to be prepared. I don't care what the terms of the truce say. Leo's heart is in a good place, but who's to say it's in the right place?"

"Donnie - don't tell me you're still thinking about that? How long has it been? Six... seven years?"

"Seven." he confirmed, "In March."

"Seven? Geez. I didn't think you still really thought about it."

Donatello gave a soft snort and turned away. "I did. I do."

April kicked up a foot and rested it on the base of the promenade wall. She almost appeared to be enjoying the view but the mention of the incident transported them both back in time to the very night it happened. She reached up and touched by her temple, where the scar had long since faded.

"It's funny. I don't remember much of it."

"I was terrified." he said softly, "We thought we had lost you."

It felt as fresh as yesterday since they had been viciously attacked by a particularly competent rogue splinter of the Foot. The fight had been bloody. None of them had escaped without injury. And despite his best effort to protect her, April had been collateral damage of the battle. It had almost been a permanent arrangement. That terrible night had also been what had prompted an unstable truce with their former enemies, and the eventual eradication of the offshoot. But the moment April had been hurt, he knew he would never trust either again.

His hand clenched at the top railing until his knuckles paled. From afar, her voice drifted in:

"We've been through some real shit, haven't we?"

Donatello blinked. From trans-dimensional travel to alien battles and beyond. If _only_ one situation stood out as exceptional. His mouth drew tight and with all his vocabulary, only one word could contain the royal flush of bizarre situations they had been dealt over the last decade:

"Yep."

"I mean, some hair-raising, toe-curling _shit_." She reiterated with an almost proud grin, "And here we are. We made it."

A distasteful snort left his nose, "To think, of all the things we've done, it was the _Foot_ that…"

 _…_ _almost killed you._

He couldn't finish. He couldn't even bear the thought. He released a staggered sigh, almost not noticing April placing a hand on his arm. He stopped and glanced back at her. Concern had set in her features.

"I always knew you were coming. That's what I do remember."

The earnestness in her voice brought him to his senses. And he knew, like he always had - he would do anything in his power to protect her.

"I think... April, sometimes I think you put us to shame in the bravery department."

She collected her shoulder into his.

"You'd better believe it. I didn't spend the better part of a decade hanging around ninjas to be just the _girl_."

" _'_ Just the girl'." he said under a quiet breath, "If only you knew."

"Oh? Knew what, exactly?"

Donatello shifted on his feet, trying to put into words the enormity she played in their lives.

"Well, first of all, I can't even count on my fingers the times you saved our shells. And not just from physical threat, either. You give us insight that none of us have. You connect us to the world in a way that the rest of my family can't. You care about us. Thusly: You're invaluable."

"Y-you really think that?" she stuttered in surprise.

"All of us do." he confirmed with a nod, "And that's even adjusting for all the times you have almost killed us in that van, because I'm not going to lie - you drive like a maniac on fire. But believe me, there's nothing we wouldn't do for you."

April shook her head and gave a dark chuckle, "A maniac on fire, hey? For your information, I happen to know a _very_ smart guy that has developed a mutagen that can liquefy flesh. So just remember _that_."

"Sounds like the kind of person I'd get along with."

"Oh, I don't know about that." she teased with a dazzling grin, "He can be kind of a dork sometimes."

"Give me a name, April. I'll make sure he never bothers you again."

April spoke quietly into the night, "That would be a shame."

They captured each others gaze and a lifetime flashed before them: their years of friendship. Their times of grief and joy. Failures and success. The aching uncertainty of the future. Countless moments went by in silence before something forbidden lurched in his heart. Donatello moved quickly to quash it. He cleared his throat, calling an end to battle.

"Maybe we should head back? Before it gets too late."

The suggestion left her shaking her head. Red curls tumbled across her shoulder.

"How about we go a little further? I know this spot with the nicest view."

.


	3. Part 3

Donatello followed as April led them towards the eastern border of the parks' southern grounds, passing briefly by the outdoor amphitheater. Tonight it rested, an empty shell of stone. They walked on, following the wide concrete trail through the regiment of cherry trees that still clung to the last vestiges of summer, making their way south along the promenade. Rounding a turn, they recaught site of the path. The similarities to his own situation had him asking anew:

"Stranded on a deserted island. How did we even get to that line of conversation?"

April gave a soft chuckle and folded her arms against the evening chill, "Like most of our conversations, Donnie: _obliquely_."

"And specifically?" he joked.

"Well," she played along with a tip of her head, "You were talking about some kind of execution file acting antisocial. Then when I asked 'how bad on a scale of couch potato' to 'my best friend is a volleyball called Wilson', you said the volleyball... to which I said, 'if you were going to be alone on an island, there could be worse company than a volleyball'… which led us right here."

She slowed to a halt at the waters edge.

Here.

They watched the world from the small place he now stood in Manhattan. It was almost mind boggling to him that he had been captive to such a small part of the earth for so long, and nothing short of astonishing the extra dimensions his life had been granted despite his circumstances.

"Hm." he said at last, "An island. Virtually deserted. Quite a fitting analogy when I think about it. Although, in my case maybe 'isolated' would be a better word."

"Not quite." April corrected with a gentle knock into his side.

"No." He looked across his shoulder at her, "Not quite."

For a moment she said nothing, then:

"And what about now?"

The meaning was lost on him. He felt himself stiffen in alarm, certain he was caught staring.

"P-pardon?

"What about now?" she repeated.

"Now, what?"

"Three things." she said softly, "You're on an island. What would you keep?"

She seemed especially sentimental tonight. Without a doubt something was on her mind. All the tells of Miss O'Neil. But whatever atypical closeness they had once shared had diminished over the last few years. She was an engaged woman. Things were different, more measured and restrained. Already straying too far from the path of decorum, he decided to go a very safe route. He gripped the neck of his jacket.

"This thing, for sure. Not too scratchy, winters coming up, and there's high probability the boiler's going to give out within the next few months. And uh, then there's half a packet of pistachios I stashed at home away from my brothers. Good nutritional source, no doubt. So that would be the second thing. And, let me think. Hm." He clacked his tongue, "It's got to be my bo."

She cracked a smile.

"Planning on running into trouble alone on your island?"

"As a matter of fact, I was thinking about hitching the jacket to one end so I've got a bindle to carry my nuts."

Her eyes narrowed: "You're a _concern._ "

"So I'm told." He suppressed a smile, "Again, have you _met_ my brothers?"

"Enough to know that this time alone on your imaginary island might be a welcome vacation for you."

He readjusted his weight onto his elbows at the railing.

"I have to admit- it would be nice to occasionally get away from Mikey's impromptu performances... it's not exactly conducive to an ideal working environment."

April snickered into her glove: "Oh, no."

"Oh, _yes_. He's managed to sneak into a show on Broadway at some point, I'm certain of it. If I hear the 'Circle of Life' one more time while Klunk gets held up in the air like some kind of offering to the gods - I'm going to lobotomize myself."

He took an imaginary pin and stabbed it into his eye. An eyebrow of hers shot skyward.

"It kind of scares me that you look like you know what you're doing there."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Donnie! Who else am I supposed to talk to about software glitches if you go doing that?!" Her attention snagged anew, her voice dropped to a whisper, "Oh, _Christ."_

From behind them, a set of footsteps came closer. Too engulfed in their conversation, he had failed to notice. Donatello froze, eyes darting between the periphery of his vision and back.

"I got this." she whispered, placing a mitt over his, "Just come closer and look my way until they go."

Wordlessly, he obeyed. He stood before her, hands jammed in his pockets, for longer and closer than he could ever remember. She caught his eye and smiled before looking back at the encroaching pedestrian over his shoulder. Slivers of stale Newports and the tang of cheap wine greeted his nose. A drunk, no doubt. Homeless, maybe. His fists clenched by his pocketknife, prepared for any unpleasant turn of events. He had never been the greatest fan of knives, surgical notwithstanding, but they were a hell of a lot easier to conceal than a five foot nine staff.

"Gotta light?" the man said in a gravelly voice, fumbling with a roll-up cigarette.

April gave a nonchalant rise and fall of her shoulders, "Nope."

Something in her tone was both dismissive and apologetic, and instilled with more than a touch of _fuck-off_. If Donatello hadn't known her so well, he would have bought it without a second thought.

"How 'bout a spare cigarette?"

"Nope."

The man grumbled something incoherent before wandering off to join the clotted stream of walkers behind them. When convinced they were alone again, Donatello spoke:

"Does that usually happen?"

"You have no idea."

"You'd think-" he stopped short. _You'd think anyone that didn't have a light wouldn't have a cigarette_ , he almost said. The concept was almost too entirely stupid to say aloud. Catching his meaning, April agreed with a rise of her eyebrows.

"I know."

If Sensei was handing out awards for the art of deflection, tonight April had passed with flying colors.

"Well," he said, "on the positive side - I remained undetected."

She chuckled warmly, "That guy was absolutely toasted. You could have been a twenty-foot cyborg and I don't think he would have noticed. Plus, you might be pleased to know that it's surprisingly easy to keep your cool with a well trained ninja such as yourself close by."

Donatello tipped his head in a show of modesty: "I try."

"You can't even tell."

That mellifluous lilt in her voice. The gentle curl of her rose pink lips as she teased him. God, he had never wanted her more. He let the moment pass by, adding it to the heap of torturous moments he had become an expert at avoiding. But with her right in front of him, there was no escaping so easily. She remained close, peering over his shoulder, waiting until she was certain it was clear.

"Is that cologne?"

What passed for hairs on the back of his neck – pores, he supposed – prickled.

"Uh... soap." he said, voice as wonky as his knees, "Just soap."

"It's nice."

With that cuttingly sweet remark, she swiveled around, joining him in facing the river. A tight breath escaped his nose as his heart steadied from a gallop into something that could almost pass for high blood pressure. It was peaceful where they stood, a view of the river and beyond. Not knowing how else to regain his calm disposition, he fell back to the topic of their work.

"It's almost a shame we didn't load a beta version of the app onto my T-cell and give it a dry run." he said, "I could have tracked where we went tonight."

April groaned loosely into the back of her wrist.

"Ugh! That would have made so much _sense_. I could have checked if the realtime cloud integration was running smoothly."

"Just think of the possibilities when we get it working..." he breathed in, holding the excitement in his lungs. This was what drove him forward, this why he found himself in the lab _ad naseum_ : the realization of an idea. A feeling, this time, he could share with April.

"I suppose we'll have to test it next time… after we work out some more of the glitches."

Unprompted, his mind began to wander to his postponed trip…

"I could take it with me but I might have to boost the signal underwater."

"Donnie?"

"Or maybe I should kill the signal for security reasons… I guess it depends on how many redundancy levels I'm prepared to take… and there is that glitch with the crosshairs jumping eighty feet to the left…"

She sucked on her lip, waiting for his episode to pass.

"Yep." she repeated, "Eighty feet to the left. That'd be the glitch."

He snapped to. Glitches. Maybe that's all she saw in him anymore. Someone to catch the faults and keep things moving. From nowhere, insecurity slithered in and took root.

"April, y-you would let me know if I was taking advantage of your time by, well… whatever it is I'm blathering on about? I know you're busy with real life-"

A look caught halfway between shock and alarm crossed her face.

"Real life? _Real life_? Donnie, this _is_ my real life… and you think I'd drag you all the way out here for that! No! You bend over backwards for everyone, all the time. I actually _enjoy_ the tech talk, remember? Tonight? Our projects? Our hypothetical island? Our debate over which syrup makes the best post-mix?"

Donatello nodded and drew a shaky breath, "Oh, uh... you're sure about that?"

"That it's cherry coke? Oh, I'm sure."

"It's just that... I know that we've both been preoccupied lately and I would hate to think I was missing some kind of social cues..."

"Of _course_ I'm sure! I mean, I barely see you as it is- how could you be around _less_? And even when you _are_ quiet, I know you're not hoping for someone to fill in the blank space. Do you know how rare that is? To find someone like that?"

A nervous but reassured smile came to his face.

"Wait, so you're _comfortable_ around me? For the record."

"Yes!" She threw her arms outwards, "Of course I'm comfortable around you! We've only known each other nearly half our lives! Aren't you comfortable around me?"

"Of course," he repeated, "Not just outwardly - believe me, I'm aware that my brothers and I are a mouthful to swallow," He cocked a hairless brow hoping that particular phrasing wouldn't be taken out of context, "It's just that it's refreshing to have someone who gets what I'm saying without needing to bounce it down to layman's terms. Not that I mind, it's just unexpected."

April gave an empathetic quirk of her mouth.

"Kinda like when I bring up proprietary software fuck-ups around Casey and he just squints at me until he's cross-eyed-" she cut herself short and fell silent.

Donatello felt his stomach flop. Casey Jones. Fiancé of April O'Neil.

"Uh, yes, h-how is he?" he asked lightly.

She forced a smile.

"Good."

"Good." he echoed softly.

So, here it was. The elephant in the room. He swallowed the hurt lodged in his throat. It was coming. If not from her then from him – to acknowledge that their friendship needed to be defined beyond reproach. Every disdainful glare from Jones in the last few years had given clue to it. He pushed down hard, forming the perfect façade of indifference that he had become second nature to him. No use in delaying the obvious.

"A-and tonight?"

"I'm not too sure… probably with Raph doing something... _violent_." she explained with a flip of her hand.

"Oh, I uh... I see."

She folded her arms as they picked up from their temporary stop and walked on, bracing herself against the thing he could see was on her mind. For a moment he thought she would say nothing, her gaze wandering across to an older couple sharing a warm pastry in the distance. Even in the semi-light between lamp light and the night shadows, he could see them smiling.

"Casey doesn't do walking so much." she said quietly, "You know how he gets a little paranoid if someone stares too long. He's much more at home, you know-" April bapped a closed fist into the other. "But he's a great guy underneath all that, Donnie."

"I believe that."

He knew straight away that April didn't buy it.

"Do you? I know you haven't exactly been thrilled since our engagement was announced. Maybe I could see why. He and I are so different."

That was an understatement if ever there was. Everyone, including himself, had long wondered what April saw in their brutish friend. Many times he had quietly wondered if it was what she didn't see: Mutants. Turtles. Sewers. Take your pick.

"Maybe I should have said: I believe _you_." he said, trying to assuage her concerns, "I trust your judgment, April. I always have."

She sighed lowly, through clenched teeth, her thumb worrying where her ring sat beneath her glove.

"And what if I don't trust my judgment, anymore?"

The confession startled him. He ripped his gaze from their path and back to her. A cold breeze raking over the water tousled her hair and she tucked an errant strand away. The simple gesture was enough to make his heart ache in longing. But he knew he needed to do the same. Put it away. Keep things in order. At last he spoke:

"Whatever it is you're feeling, I'm positive it's only temporary. It will pass. You'll get married. Be the beautiful bride you were meant to be. And become the lovely April Jones."

" _April Jones_." She stopped walking and squeezed her ringed hand tight, "It should be Casey O'Neil after all the shit he's put me through with his vigilante nonsense. He's wasn't the one worrying all night if he was going to return with a scratch or a stab. Or at all."

She drew in a deep breath, watching the pretty lights of Brooklyn in the distance.

"Do you want to know something sick?" she rounded her attention back at him, "I thought I could change him. I can't believe I became one of those girls that thought they could change a man."

"You have, I think." Donatello said, surprised to find he was defending Casey for the very reason he didn't want to, "He's more open around you. More thoughtful. And he loves you. Very much."

Her eyes danced across his face, inspecting it for any tell, "Does he?"

Donatello merely nodded in return, his face set as neutral as he could garner. It was true. Every word. But she was far from placated. April dropped her eyes and wrung her hands.

"Sometimes I don't know, Donnie, if you're being good or logical."

He smiled, "Column A, Column B."

The observation sat in her head for a beat. She dropped he gaze with a titter.

"Yeah, I probably deserved that."

He could see it now, her pain welling to the surface. Unable to place its cause, he did the only thing he could think of.

"April." he said with a newfound seriousness, "You deserve to be happy. Whatever it is you want, know that we'll all support you the way you have supported us."

She peered up, eyes glazed with sadness.

"You mean that?"

"Absolutely. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?"

She sniffled, turning her attention back over the water. After a time, she spoke.

"I'm very lucky to have you, Donnie."

Donatello frowned, determined to crack her.

"I could say the same." He stooped by her on the railing, "Are you going to talk O'Neil, or am I going to have to bore you with more family stories?"

April gave a light chuckle. It had worked.

"Not to mention… your wedding's soon." he pointed out with an inflated but genuine enthusiasm, "You must be excited."

"Some wedding." she muttered, "Having you hide in the rafters like you don't belong."

The melancholy in her voice was evident. Donatello's heart sank, wishing he could fix it, and knowing she wouldn't want him to. Experience had taught him that the best method was just to offer a hand, or a shoulder, or…

"Maybe we can be there in other ways." he released a soft breath, finally offering: "I don't know if it's exactly traditional for the bride to be getting something so early, but here's something you can 'borrow' for the big day." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mask. "It's not very glamorous, I admit."

April slid her hand into his, grasping the tail ends of the mask. It may have only been a thin strip of fabric, but also an authentic part of who he was. Her face transformed to awe.

"You brought that with you?"

He nodded, "And my T-cell. Torch. Smoke bombs. Short knife. A few shuriken. The usual."

"Donnie... I couldn't..."

"I know it's just a mask." he said quickly, "But it's my lucky one. Remember the time Mikey used the broken pressure cooker and scalding hot chili _just_ missed my head? Or when the lair caught fire the day after I installed sprinklers? Or even…" he swallowed hard, unsure if he should reveal what a lost cause he was by remembering this: "even the first time we met you. That was the one I was wearing. It's my lucky one. It's seen me through many close calls… and it may not be in the most perfect condition, but you wouldn't have to keep it anywhere obvious and... um…" he glanced at her, stiffened with alarm, "I'm probably not selling it to you, am I?"

She gave a quick shake of her head.

"No. It's not that – I'm sorry. It's just..." She folded neatly it and placed it back in his hand. "I want you to hold onto this for now. Please."

His face dropped.

"Oh. Uh... okay."

"Please... let me explain."

She released a forceful huff, visibly shifting whatever concern she had to the tip of her tongue. There it stayed. She scrunched up her face and gave a frustrated sigh.

"April?"

"It's okay." she maintained, "Really."

His heart twinged with helplessness. This was something his brothers had forever teased him about - overextending himself to make sure April was happy. Even now. Even still. But he put the notion aside. There was something far more disturbing afoot.

"Well… I should warn you, Mikey's already been planning wedding number 2: sewer edition."

"He has?" she gave a nervous laugh, "He really shouldn't have."

"Give him a chance. I think you'll be blown away. In a good way. I think." His tongue poked against his inner cheeks in thought as he readjusted for the projection, "I hope."

It was slight, but her mood visibly shifted. She was trying.

"He does know how to have fun." she conceded.

"Mikey? It's something I've always envied about him, as a matter of fact." Donatello revealed with a sly smile, "Singing aside, he can read a room like a book."

"I can't imagine why."

This time he grinned wide enough to frame the gap between his upper incisors.

"I haven't run the tests, yet, but I'd hedge my bets on the sheer amount of comics he reads. Nothing to do with his three somewhat serious brothers in the slightest."

"The three closed books, themselves? No. Nothing at all." She inhaled a deep breath of fresh air. After several more steps, she added: "Thank you."

And because they knew each other so well, it was only seconds later he replied.

"Anytime."

Falling silent once more they walked on, following the slanted railing along the promenade, this time keeling towards the piers. He drew in the smell of nature around them. It was bittersweet to be outside again. The air was not quite as clean as out at Casey's farm, but retuning his body to the outside world was something that he had long neglected. The Northern Lights would be good for him. Make him feel like an insignificant speck observing the photon dance of a star. Maybe even make him feel nothing.

She led them to a semi-private corner of the park, dipped in shadows, and stopped.

"We're here."

Above the sky was still tinged with the faintest touch of violet. Clusters of light sprinkled the skyline across the river. The faint swishing of water at the seawall filled the quiet between them. Donatello forced off the wave of heartache, and peered across to their right, where the Brooklyn Bridge spanned the distance of East River.

"So, this is the view." he said after a time, "It's beautiful."

He glanced over at April, lost in her thoughts as she watched the traffic cross the water in an endless stream of gold and red light.

"I love it here." she said at last, "When I was a kid growing up, Manhattan was my whole world. The first time I saw the bridge really made me realize that there was a way to go beyond it. And after I got to know the world better, I knew it was the way back home."

If Donatello could pinpoint a moment in time he had had the same experience, it would be the day he had first met her. Possibility had exploded before his eyes, life became magnificent.

"I missed you whenever you were gone." he admitted quietly, "But I was always happy for you."

She turned to him, "It was always easy to come back."

Thinking she was meaning the bridge, he agreed readily, glancing over the distinctive framework.

"Over a hundred years old, refurbished to accommodate automobiles, and constructed before Brooklyn was even part of New York City. Without question: The Brooklyn Bridge. Your way home."

She followed the arc of lights that led from Brooklyn before tracing her way back to Donatello.

"You're right." she said, so softly he had almost not heard it, "You were always right."

This time there was no hiding.

"Not always. I was wrong about the one thing that mattered most."

"No, Donnie." April gave the slightest shake of her head, "I was."

Fresh footsteps neared them interspersed with the light patter of a young couple.

"It's okay..." she whispered as her fingers lifted to rest on his face. Even through her gloves he could feel their warmth. "They're not coming any closer."

The world around became a distant blur of light and air, cool and sweet.

"It's okay..." she whispered again, drawing ever closer to his mouth.

He could feel his eyes drifting shut. The blood rushing through his head. His pulse beating harder as the warmth of her body got closer to his. Everything felt right. Everything. Until – her ring. The crumb of diamond that made itself known. Guilt lanced him like a sword.

Cutting her short, he stumbled back.

"I- uh!" Breaths escaped him hard and heavy, "I'm sorry-"

The burning lust in her eyed transformed into shock. Blinking, almost dazed, she touched her fingers to her lips.

"Oh, my god! Donnie, I-I didn't mean to... to…"

The night weaved between them both, imparting a strange new distance. For a moment they said nothing, stunned by their transgression, broken only by the blaring of a distant siren.

"We can't... I can't..." he said at last, "Y-You're-"

"Getting married?" she challenged in a soft voice. She bit hard down into her lower lip, her head bowed in defeat.

Donatello nodded meekly, his throat constricting as he stared at the ground. Every bit of logic defied what he felt. Every part of him ached to hold her again. Instead, he did nothing.

"I should have known." she said in a ghost of a voice, "I've already lost you."

Donatello ripped his focus from the cement pavers.

"What are you talking about?" he asked evenly.

She took a shaky breath, hands bunched by her hips.

"Do you love me, Donnie?"

After ten years of this game, she had called it.

"I... uh. Y-you're my friend, April."

 _A friend._ His stomach condensed into a singularity, the place where over the many years he had crushed any hope of love.

"A friend?" she repeated with a sad laugh, "Is that all?"

He did everything he could to avoid the question. He glanced at the ground, at the smoldering East river as wily and slick as an eel in the night, at the stars barely breaking through the evening smog. But no longer: Donatello breathed in once, twice, remaining completely still as he answered-

"I'm not sure what you want me to say."

It came out so quiet it was almost invisible. There it was. The truth. As much of it as he was willing to admit. He had even delivered it like a ninja. But April didn't flinch. Tears welled in her eyes as she took his hand.

"Just say the word, Donnie. Just talk to me… and everything can change."

Given long enough, Donatello could figure out just about anything in this world. How to reverse engineer alien technology. How to repair the network of convoluted wiring in the lair. How to code with the kind of elegant simplicity that seemed almost organic. But believing what she was saying now seemed impossible. His haunted eyes, dark and studious, fixed on hers-

"April, you don't need me to tell you anything."

Her hand slipped from his.

"I see."

"I-I'm sorry."

"No. Please don't apologize." she sniffled, smearing away tears with the heel of her palm, "I managed to mess things up all by myself."

The mess. Ten years of dancing around the truth. Ten years of leaving things unsaid. His face set into an unyielding wall. Practice had made perfect. But that intent of a kiss had left cracks the size of canyons.

"Please, Donnie... I can see it in your eyes." she begged, "Please just say it. Say _anything_. Please."

If everything was on the table, he was not holding back.

"April, I-" he stopped, frowning, as years of chaos ordered themselves into strained words, "I know where I belong. And I-I've long since accepted it."

April started back, tears breaking.

"I never wanted to hurt you."

He swallowed the defeat lodged in his throat. "I know."

He had always believed it. Perhaps it was what made it hurt all the more. Not that he had been exactly graceful about it for a long time.

"No – please." She took half a step closer, dropping her head to lift his attention up, "Don't shut me out, Donnie. You mean the world to me. And I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have expected-"

"It's okay." He raised a hand in protest, "You don't owe me an explanation."

She shook her head.

"You're almost never wrong. But I owe you the truth…"

The distress in her tone ignited a streak of curiosity within him. His stupid, _stubborn_ curiosity. April, certain she had caught his attention, pressed on:

"You're not just my best friend, Donnie - I consider you family. And I guess… I guess I thought that anything more could jeopardize that. I've seen it happen so often to the people I care about: Things fall apart. People fall out. Especially when you're young and not certain of how you feel. I couldn't bare the thought of losing you. But I realize now - by keeping you at arm's length, it's all I've ever managed to do. Push you away. One lie at a time."

Donatello stopped her hastily-

"I understand. You weren't the only one afraid. I cherish our friendship and I… I was not willing to risk it. What happened before… just now… that was nothing. I understand. It never happened."

"No… I-I'm not explaining this right..." She reached out to grab the promenade railing to steady herself, her nerves leaving bright flushes of red running down her neck. "A long time ago you came to me. You wanted to tell me something and I wouldn't let you. I knew how you felt about me back then. But I wouldn't even let you tell me. I want you to know that I've never forgiven myself for that."

"Th-that was just…" he swallowed hard, "I was young and stupid."

"You're a lot of things, Donnie, but you are not stupid."

The shame of that memory from years ago still burned bright in his mind, haunting him at the most inopportune of times… rewiring the security system, servicing the van, sometimes even just sipping his coffee at breakfast. There is was, like a horrible stone of regret. But back then, in his inexperience, that was how he thought it went – that you just blurted everything out and the pieces would more often than not fall in your favor. He had only been a foolish teenager when he had almost done just that, worn his heart on his sleeve and confessed exactly how had felt… until April, presumably, had detected what he was about to do and nipped any grandiose heartfelt gestures in the bud. Back then he had been mortified.

"In the end, you were right." he said at last, "If you want any kind of normal life, it worked out for the best."

"According to whom?"

"According to anything that makes sense. My life is not simple or easy. Being what I am, in this body… it can be a sentence. I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. Especially you."

Her expression was sober, "I… I know."

He dropped his head, his voice thin and fragile in the night.

"Then perhaps our differences have spoken for us."

This time she took both his hands, holding them gently in her own. He glanced down at her slim and dainty fingers. Different was barely accurate.

"Donnie… I know what you think is _right_ , but what do you really want?"

His shoulders slumped, "It doesn't matter."

"No." Her eyes blazed with a stubbornness as strong as his own, "It matters to me."

Faced with her directness, his features pulled tight.

"You matter to me, April. You've always mattered to me. That's why things can't change."

She squeezed his hand, imploring him for more.

"Do you really believe that? Because I did. For a long time. But now, all I wonder is… maybe if I had been brave, maybe if I had listened to you. Maybe if I wasn't so afraid of making mistakes… things would be different."

"That was a long time ago." Donatello murmured lowly.

"It's not too late," she insisted, "It's not."

He felt a ripple beneath the surface, something he dare not look in the eye. And there was something far more obstructive.

"Casey..." he said, lingering on the name like a question.

April gulped and nodded in acknowledgement.

"It's over." She glanced down, "Nothing official. But we both know it."

"W-what? Y-you've said something about this?"

"I didn't have to. When I told him you were coming over last week, he accused me of being more interested in spending time with you." Her gaze remained fixed to the ground, "I couldn't deny it."

"April..." he said in soft disbelief.

She broke their hold and ripped off her gloves, slipping the ring from her finger to her pocket.

"I don't know what I doing or what I was thinking getting engaged. I care about Casey. I'll always care about Casey. But whenever I think about my future, it isn't him I see." She wiped her tears away with a sniffle, "I was trying to get the courage to tell you, but you were being so sweet, and I felt like such a failure." She curled her now naked hand, "I guess I couldn't stop pretending until right now."

Blindsided with the news, a strange fear shot through his core.

"I'm…" he gave a repentant toss of his head, "I'm so sorry. I had no idea." He clenched his eyes shut, muttering, almost to himself, "and I was bringing up the wedding gift and Mikey's party... Geez, I must have sounded like an idiot."

A small smile, drained of any joy, graced her.

"Not at all. To tell you the truth, I'm surprised he hasn't mentioned anything."

Casey _had_ been noticeably more absent of late. Between the new job and wedding arrangements, Donatello assumed he had little time to burn. Maybe that was why he had not detected anything unusual. Maybe Raphael knew. Not that his surly brother was in the habit of passing on _vital information_. But then he remembered – Raphael had actually been at home that morning, downing pitch black coffee and looking like a hangover. Then he had said something odd:

 _'_ _Don't screw it up by overthinkin', Donnie.'_

And Donatello had entirely misinterpreted it, because never in a million years would he have made the connection.

Awoken by the astonishing revelation, he fell back into his role as the doctor. The most clueless doctor that had ever walked the earth.

"H-how are you? Are you okay?"

April leaned on the outer edge of her soles in thought. She sucked in a deep breath. A jogger passed by close enough for them to huddle further into the railing.

"I'm getting there."

"If there's anything I can do..."

She leveled a stare that clipped his heart.

"I want you to tell me that I'm not imagining what I feel. I want you to tell me the truth."

His nerves, already flared with shock, ignited. The truth, _this_ truth, was the one thing he had held back from her. His voice, robbed of strength, barely made it through the safeguards of reason, and past his lips.

"Are you sure?"

She shook her head solemnly: "Even if I lose everything, I'll never forgive myself if I don't try."

Donatello's chest tightened, suddenly riddled with indecision. One word, just _one word_ of self-sabotage could end it forever. Put things back the way they were supposed to be. Because it was never just about the truth.

"April, think about what you're saying... I-I can't give you what he can. Heck, what _any_ human can. A family. A home. I can't be that person."

She returned a defiant toss of her head, strain etched on her face.

"I don't care. I've thought about it and thought about it, and every time I come to the same conclusion. I can fool everyone else, but I know in my heart what the truth is. Donnie… I have no home without you."

The wind knocked from his lungs. In his stunned silence, she permitted herself to continue:

"And I know it's not easy or simple, and that none of this should make sense. But look at us..." she laughed, a sad laugh, "if anyone can make complicated and difficult things work – it'd be you and I. Where I belong." her voice dropped to a whisper, "Because I love you, Donnie."

"Oh."

Ten years. He had waited ten years to say 'oh'.

April gave a dejected laugh, "I know."

 _She loves me._

The confession hit him like a freight train. With each pulse of his heart, an electrifying thrill coursed his veins. Hot and cold. Excitement and joy. Any logic he thought he had made impenetrable, that he has spent years fortifying against rejection and pain, dissolved beneath its power. Before he could speak she cut in-

"You can throw it back in my face, God knows I deserve it."

"April-"

"I was stupid... so _stupid._ I let every convention dictate what I should feel… and all it did was make me miserable. It's my fault. I let it happen by running away. I was the one that refused to face it. _My_ fault-"

"April-"

"And tonight, oh god, tonight has been the happiest I've been in so long-"

He pulled his mittens free and stilled her quaking hands in his own. She glanced down in shock, hope entwined with fear glimmering in her eyes.

"I..." He took a deep breath, then another, softly setting the truth free into the evening sky, "I love you, April"

"Oh…" A tremor of a giggle escaped her, "R-Really?"

Tears of happiness pricked his eyes.

"Yes." the words choked in his throat, determined to be heard, "I- I don't think it's possible I could ever not."

The stillness that overcame her was almost terrifying. But this was something he had not seen before - regret so profound it was palpable in the air.

" _Donnie_ …" she whispered, eyes glistening beneath the cold starlight, "How could you ever forgive me for being so blind?"

The sound of their hearts beating filled the tender quiet. She came closer, closer still. So close she flooded his senses: heat that radiated from her skin; quickening breaths passing by her lips; flecks of sapphire in her eyes. And the way she watched him now… oh, how he had wanted her to look at him like that for as long as he could remember - like he was the river she wanted to drown in. She was his light, his constant. The woman that captured his heart. And now, the woman that had offered hers in return. They stood together at beginning of a new journey. The birthplace of a universe. And it was time to move.

His voice dropped to the softest of sounds.

"Kiss me."

With all fear left behind, they closed their distance.

 _Bliss_.

Never before had he quite grasped the concept, how this kind of happiness could obliterate all the turmoil before it. All the nights he had lain awake wondering if she felt anything at all. All the emptiness in the time thereafter where he had resigned himself to being only a friend. The steadfast acceptance that had developed in its place. Any triumph, any victory, any joy before now paled in comparison.

She was love.

 _April._

She pulled away in a daze taking all he wanted in the world with her.

"Wow." she whispered, fingers falling to her lips.

Donatello could only nod dumbly, then: " _Yeah_."

"We should do that again."

" _Yeah._ "

"As in, right n-"

He rushed her before she could even finish, taking all she had to give and returning it in every way he could. There, she melted into his arms, warm and sweet. Pressing against him in places he never knew existed. Kissing him like he mattered. She smelt good, _so_ good. And her taste… for the love of all that was good in the world, he couldn't think straight. Behind them the city simply vanished in haze of irrelevant minutiae. Just like that, he had become the worst ninja in existence.

"God, Donnie." she breathed between velvet kisses, "What have we been doing all this time?"

Somehow, he answered, "I don't know..."

She gripped his lapel and pulled his mouth to hers. Lust coursed through his body like a heavenly drug. He took a shuddering breath for air, placing tender kisses on her ruddy cheeks before returning with delicate force to her sacred lips. Precise in his care. Clumsy in his joy. Soon he found himself further: the corner of her mouth, the soft curve of her neck, as her hot breath hitched beneath him. There he found power. Fingernails clawed helplessly at his shell. In some semblance of restraint he trailed back to her mouth. _More_ , he wanted more. He couldn't get enough.

"We have a-" her voice caught as he placed the softest kiss beneath her ear, "a long way to walk back.

"At least two and a half miles."

"To my place?"

He screwed his eyes shut, feeling her fingers curl deliciously - and not without a component of retaliation - into his sides. Pleasure jolted through his abdomen.

With a rough nod, "Yes, please."

"Good."

Arms wrapped around his neck like warm lifelines. He hoisted her up, sharing a lingering kiss before placing her down somewhere… _somehow_ … back on Earth. There they stood, lost for words, fingertips still clinging to each other. How it had been possible that this is what he had fought against for so long? Something so natural it felt like breathing?

With a disbelieving shake of her head, April stepped forward and buried her face by his shoulder.

"You're all I want, Donnie." she revealed softly, "With me. On our island. You're all I want."

He took her cheek in his hand, before replying in the most intimate of ways. There they remained, a single shadow in the night.

Before long, she turned into his side and threaded her hand into his. Linked like lovers, they walked back into the night. And what was sure to be the shortest trip on record, Donatello marveled that April was right. Just a normal walk. No rooftop running. No training. No junkyard runs. Just a stroll to enjoy the city sights.

New York had never been more beautiful.

…

* * *

A/N - thank you for reading & forgive the heavy amounts of post-posting editing!


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